Triopic 2
by Cascade Waters
Summary: Parallel experiences--second of three. WARNING: Contains references to spanking.


Triopic 2

by firechild

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Warning: Contains references to spanking.

A/N: Marie's sandbox...

--

I couldn't believe that this was happening.

So, okay, I haven't been having the greatest day.

So, okay, I haven't been having the greatest week.

Seriously--I didn't ever think I'd hurt quite that much under his care.

But today... today he actually made me take a nap. A nap. Like a two-year-old. And I was pretty sure I knew exactly what he meant by his 'or else' look when I tried to protest.

Short version is this:

About a week ago, I left my dad a note that I was going to crash at my apartment, which I did... after stopping at a drug store long enough to decide that I didn't have the energy to go in to buy ibuprofen. I had a killer headache, I was nauseated, and my jaw was killing me. I went to the apartment and somehow managed to fall asleep--half on the couch and half on the floor in my clothes, which is how he found me at around midnight. I woke up to a freaked-out cop; turns out he hadn't found my note and had been about ready to kill me by the time he'd decided to check my apartment (I was so miserable that I'd forgotten that I'd turned off my cell toward the end of my shift because I'd needed five minutes of quiet to think about how my evidence fit into the case) but his fury at me morphed into wigging out when he thought he'd found me collapsed. I'd had to wake up enough to explain what had happened (only barely mentioning the headache,) and then the fury came back, but he stowed it. I managed to talk him into going home, saying I'd see him the next day at work, but it took a lot of talking. He found my note the next morning (thank God) but he wasn't exactly happy with me, and I knew that he was only gonna get more growly, but I left a note and a voicemail for him and then went to my place again; I was barely making it through my shifts, forget my overtime, but I couldn't help it. I'd managed to get away with not eating lunch and figured that he hadn't noticed, and I was so nauseated that night that I didn't even get down a glass of water, but this time I couldn't sleep.

Found out the next morning that I hadn't so much gotten away with any of it--my dad cornered me and marched me off to an early lunch, and when I wouldn't eat, he took me to the men's room at the diner and nailed me, and the only thing that saved me from a full-on trip over his knee was that the last time he turned me to swat me, my jaw hit my shoulder and I... well, I sort of started crying. Not hard or anything, not like really crying, but there were a couple of tears, and he got all worried 'cause he knew that I wouldn't have cried over just half a dozen whacks. I finally had to break down and admit what was going on, and he dragged me back to the lab, but when I tried to go back to what I'd been doing, he stopped me and dragged me down to Hawkes, and I was really glad that most everyone was still at lunch because every time I tried to talk him out of it, he swatted me again (one of these days, I'll remember to just go to Sheldon first and take full advantage of the confidentiality thing.)

Turns out, I had three late wisdom teeth all coming in fast, hard, and at the same time; Hawkes stuffed some painkillers and some water down my throat, Mac walked me up to his office and told me that I'd be using his guest couch for a nap even if he had to tan me bare (um, the office walls are glass--whaddya think I chose?) and when I woke up, he told me that I had an appointment the next afternoon. I snuck out of his office while he was out so that I could finish the bits of paperwork that Lindsay hadn't been able to cover for me, and then I tried to head back to my apartment. I got as far as the parking garage before a hand clamped down on my shoulder.

I slept on my stomach that night. At Mac's house. I know he wasn't really that hard on me, but even the painkillers that barely took the edge off of the headache couldn't make my butt un-sore. And I didn't get out of his sight the next morning; I learned that it was safer for my rear if I stopped trying to talk him out of the appointment with the oral surgeon. When we got there, everyone there was really nice while Dad was just stern, warning me (at least he was nice enough to do it in code) to handle myself. I thought they were just gonna do an exam, so when I came around and saw that it was the middle of the afternoon, and the first face I saw was Flack's smiling down at me, I got a little scared. Found out, when I was a little more coherent, that the surgeon had elected for emergency extraction due to the beginnings of an infection, for which he hadn't needed my consent. They gave me some serious pain stuff and some antibiotics and sent me home with Dad for a few days of rest. Don went to my apartment to get a couple things for me, and he even remembered to bring Missy so that we could keep each other company.

So I was really surprised when Dad woke me up from yet another nap (I'm hoping he doesn't find out that the catnaps are from the anasthesia and not from the pain meds, which I haven't actually been taking) tonight to take me... to work.

I thought that I'd finished everything I had to do that the girls hadn't done for me, so I was seriously confused, especially when he led me to the old back lab that we pretty much never use. When we got in there, there were no lights, but there were two cushioned chaise lounge things, with footstools serving as tables next to them--they'd already been stocked with water and what I was pretty sure were milkshakes (I was right, they were the jamocha shakes that I love.) He got me into a chair, we got settled, and I didn't have time to worry about trying to talk before...

The sky lit up.

It wasn't a perfect view, but it was pretty good, tons better than my old bedroom window in Ma's house or the backseat window in Louie's car on the way to one of his 'errands' for the gang. I'd never gotten to sit down and just watch a fireworks show. I know that sounds crazy, but it's true. It was so cool that I didn't even think about my jaw for a few minutes, and I was weirdly tired out enough to maybe actually sleep instead of catnapping here and there through the night.

Maybe someday I'll be able to find something even a fraction as awesome to give to this man who keeps giving me all kinds of fireworks and gets nothing back.

--


End file.
